Ripper
by merwhopotterlock
Summary: Jacki Fullerson is a former army sniper. That is, until she's recruited by SHIELD to be one of their agents. Starts five years before the Avengers, but will eventually become an Avengers story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Marvel or anything in it, thought really, nothing really Marvel shows up here. That's in the next chapter.**

**And I know, I haven't put anything up for, well, let's just call it a longggggggg time. So, I guess this is an apology and an early Christmas gift, though it's probably a bad idea to put another story up when I still have to update my other one. Oops. (But I promise, I'll put the next chapter of Metamorphmagus soon. I'm working on it now.)**

**Chapter 1**

_Gunfire echoed in my ears as I raced up the stairs, rifle case in hand. Lance, my spotter, trailed after me. We made our way up onto the roof of the base, and settled down besides a low wall. I set up my rifle on the bipod as Lance surveyed the scene with his rangefinder, sweat glistening on his dark skin._

"_We're lucky there's no wind today," he said. "There's a target 500 meters out. See the guy with a radio and map?"_

_I nodded, and said, "He's an officer, most likely."_

"_They're sloppy, not even bothering to hide their officers and such. And you know what that makes. Easy targets. No offense to them or anything, but they really suck at surprise attacks." I smiled at this._

_I could feel the warm concrete underneath me as I followed the man's path with the scope. He stopped moving, and I held my breath, focusing on his chest. I went back to my training. Shoot between my heartbeats. There was an explosion nearby, and I took the opportunity, my finger already on the trigger. The man staggered back amidst the chaos, dead, as the soldiers around him faltered in their shooting._

"_Nice work," said Lance. "Plus, you've drawn out another officer, 550 meters out. The guy with all the soldiers around him giving orders. He just came from the passenger side of a car."_

"_I see him." I focused my scope on the new target, finding his chest easily. I waited until he turned around, then I pressed the trigger, watching as he collapsed. _

_I began putting everything back, folding up my bipod and putting it in the case along with my rifle. "We have to move," I said. "Otherwise they'll be able to figure out where we are."_

_We raced down the stairs and had reached the bottom when we heard gunfire sweeping the roof we had been on not long ago. I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. _

_Then, an explosion went off nearby, and-_

I woke up, panting, sweat on my forehead. The alarm clock next to me went off, and I slammed it off. I swung my feet off my bed. After all this time, it was still disconcerting to wake up in a nice, fluffy bed with plump pillows.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds as I sipped my hot chocolate, which sent a warm sensation tingling down to my toes. I changed into jeans and a hoodie, slipping on my brown boots. Grabbing my purse, I walked down the stairs of my apartment complex.

It wasn't some big, fancy building with nice apartments. My apartment was tiny, but it didn't stop the rent from being fairly expensive. Then again, everything in New York was.

I worked at the library sorting books, which didn't earn me much. No one had any use for a former army sniper, so I guess I was lucky I at least had a job. But it was a bit depressing that I couldn't even land a job flipping burgers at McDonald's.

And if the government hadn't cut funding, maybe I still would have been in the army. But they did, so I was one of the many let go. After all, what good was keeping an injured sniper when there were plenty of others that could be chosen from, all of them in top form?

I spent the rest of the day arranging books until lunch break came around and I found myself outside eating a sandwich. There were plenty of fast food chains around, but I didn't like them, preferring to eat healthy, a habit I still retained.

A man sat down besides me on the bench, trying to appear disinterested in me. It wasn't working. "May I help you with something?" I asked.

He didn't seem particularly surprised I had caught him; perhaps he was expecting it. "It doesn't seem like a job you would enjoy. You know, working in a library."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I didn't mean any offense by my comment. Mark," he said, holding out his hand. I hesitantly looked at it. Should I? Admittedly, it did seem a bit weird that he knew where I worked, but perhaps he frequented the library often. A gut feeling told me otherwise, but I pushed it aside, shaking his hand.

"Jacki," I said.

"I know who you are. Jacklyn Anne Fullerson, former army sniper, born and raised in Seattle, Washington. Currently working at the library across the street sorting books, a job that can barely cover the cost of your apartment in Manhattan." He rattled all this information about my life as if it were casual facts everyone should know.

I scrambled back. "How do you know that?" I asked. A sane person would have run towards the nearest police station, but I wasn't exactly sane.

"We've recently been keeping an eye on you, Miss Fullerson." My body tensed as I readied myself for a fight, if it came to that. He seemed to notice it, and putting his hands up, said, "I'm not going to hurt you, you know."

"Says the guy stalking me," I shot back.

He merely raised an eyebrow at this. "Miss Fullerson, please just listen to- "

I cut him off, slamming him against the tree, my voice dangerously close to a growl. "No, you listen to me. If I ever find you following me, or if I ever see your face again, I will not hesitate to kick you where the sun doesn't shine and go to the authorities. The only reason I haven't gone to the police yet is because I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, because maybe you're just some guy who doesn't realise what he says is creepy as hell. But if I ever see hide or tail of you again, you won't be so lucky. We have a understanding?" He weakly nodded his head, his eyes darting frantically about.

"Run along now. Good day, and goodbye." He ran towards the busy street, nearly getting killed by a taxi. Idiot.

I finished my sandwich and headed back to the library, where I stayed until the sky outside grew dark and the twinkling lights of the city could be seen. People were still bustling about, most trying to do last minute Christmas shopping. It was Christmas Eve, and I couldn't believe all the people who still hadn't gotten gifts. But then, I wasn't one to talk.

It wasn't because I was one of the many people who procrastinated their shopping, it was because I had no one to do shopping for. I know it sounds like a cheesy sob story, but it's true.

My parents died when a mudslide took down our house. At the time, I was staying with my grandparents, so I survived. My grandparents raised me as a result, but they died a year ago. And I have no other relatives.

As for friends, well, I'm severely lacking in that department. Of course, I had my co-workers, but none of them were close enough to be called _friends._ And the friends I did have before I ended up in New York are either dead or still in the army. So the list of people I do know is reduced to the cashier behind the sandwich shop and the janitor that sweeps up the floors.

I opened my apartment door, throwing my stuff on the bed as I collapsed in the chair in front of my laptop. Maybe today would be my lucky day.

I had put up what was basically an advert about me, hoping that a job opportunity would just swim on by. So far, I had no luck. I was sure that today was the same, but I checked nonetheless.

I was right, there was nothing. Wait! There was a new message in my spam folder, and I clicked on it, warning myself not to get my hopes up too high.

But there was no need for such precaution. The email was from a security firm hoping to get a chance to hire me, and they wanted to meet _tomorrow._ A grin took over my face. Perhaps this was my chance to get out of the library, not that I had anything against it.

I slid into bed, after, of course, pushing all my stuff off, and drifted off to sleep.

**A/N: And it's done! Reviews anyone? Things will start getting interesting next chapter. XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'M SO SORRY! Words cannot describe how horrible I feel for not updating in like a month. But in my defense, my laptop, which had all of my stuff on it, literally broke down on Christmas day, which is when I was going to put this up, the same as the next chapter in my Harry Potter story Metamorphmagus. And it only got fixed like today.**

**But thanks to guest reviewer pizza and reviewer Angi Marie. Sorry for the wait!**

**And btw, I don't own Marvel.**

**Chapter 2**

I begrudgingly slid my feet out of my bed as the alarm clock went off. Then, I remembered the job interview, which was today!

I was lifted into a much better mood, and I happily walked to the kitchen, pouring myself a cup of orange juice. I never drank coffee, as my grandparents had instilled in me that the caffeine would stunt my growth. After all this time, I still listened to their advice, even if it was a bit silly. Besides, I had already stopped growing, and was a good size at 5'10.

At 8 o'clock, I stepped out of my apartment, dressed in a navy blue suit I had managed to find in the back of my closet. I wanted the job at the security firm, and I was going to do everything I could to get it.

I passed by the usual holiday crowds and weaved my way through them, dodging antlers and Santa hats. Somehow, I managed to find my way to the interview place, and settled down at a table, after pulling out some stray tinsel from my curly brown hair. The empty coffee shop was an unconventional place for an interview, but I wasn't going to complain, not when I was so close to perhaps getting a new job.

A man in a business suit and tie settled down in the seat across from me. I took in his appearance. Brown hair, maybe around 6 feet, and warm, blue eyes.

"Miss Jacklyn Fullerson, I assume? I'm Mr. Rogers," he said, holding out his hand, which I took.

"Yes, I'm Jacklyn Fullerson." I fidgeted with the edge of my suit jacket, an action luckily hidden by the table between us.

"So, Miss Fullerson, you were an army sniper. So you obviously know about reconnaissance, and everything else that is required for a sniper. How about hand-to-hand combat?"

"I know the basics, but this isn't an interview for a security firm, is it?" I wasn't stupid. I had been interviewed by another security firm before, though they didn't hire me, obviously. But this interview was miles off from the one I had then.

"Perceptive too, I see. Let's start over. I'm Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division. Sorry about yesterday."

I raised an eyebrow, and against my better judgement, stayed seated, my curiosity overpowering my desire to run. "Wait, so you guys were the ones who sent the creepy stalker dude? What exactly are you guys?"

"We're a secret organization that's main purpose is protecting the world from threats, to put it simply. And yes, we did send Agent Thompson to talk to you, though that didn't go to plan. He can get terribly excited sometimes, like with yesterday, and end up saying something other than what he intended."

"Was it true what he said? About keeping an eye on me?"

"I wouldn't put it that way. We were simply monitoring you, to see if we should recruit you or not. We certainly weren't stalking you. That's plain creepy, like watching someone when they sleep."

"Why would you want to recruit me, though?" I was flattered, I really was, but if I wasn't good enough for the army to keep, why would I be good enough for them?

"Why not? While you were in the army, you were one of the best shots they had, and you have potential." Well, not good enough to keep, I thought in my head. "You're in need of a job, we're in need of someone like you. It's a win-win situation, don't you think?"

"If I joined, and that's if, what will I have to do?" I was interested in this job, but I wasn't going to pounce to take a job from this so-called SHIELD. I don't even know what they do. Heck, I didn't even know they existed until a minute ago!

"Usually, new recruits have to go through the Academy, but since you already have some training from the army, we'll just brush you up on some skills, perhaps make you take a crash course. You're going to have to follow orders, which I'm sure you're used to, being in the army, and you will have to go on missions. There is a danger factor involved, though it varies depending on the type of mission. It's perfectly understandable if you don't want to join."

He sat there, arms folded on the table, expectantly waiting for a response. I weighed my choices.

Option A: Refuse and live on my normal life, working at a job that barely covered all the bills, taxes, and rent. But working a job that had a zero percent of me dying, unless a bookshelf fell on me, or something.

Option B: Accept and start working in a job in which I could potentially get seriously harmed in, or even killed. But the pay would most likely be way better than the one I had now.

Plus, it wasn't like it was the only job with dangers. There was always a chance of me getting shot at or exploded while in the army. And I'm still in one piece, so that should count for something, right?

But was it worth it? My mind wandered back to that fateful day.

_We raced down the stairs and had reached the bottom when we heard gunfire sweeping the roof we had been on not long ago. I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. _

_Then, an explosion went off nearby, and I dove down to the ground, shielding my body as my rifle case flew out of my hand and onto the ground nearby. There was a ringing in my ears, and I could feel the bruises forming, and the blood soaking my pants. A piece of glass had created a deep laceration on my cheek, which would leave a scar and currently hurt like hell. _

_Wait, blood? I glanced down to my leg and mentally swore. A piece of shrapnel had dug itself into my right leg, and I could feel the dull throbbing it was causing._

_I took a deep breath, and inhaled sharply at the pain in my chest. It hurt to breathe in, and my breaths became shallow. So I had broken ribs on top of everything else. Fuck._

_With some difficulty, I forced myself to breathe normally and ignore the pain, and glanced to my right. Lance was, thankfully, still alive, but his face was battered with cuts and blood poured down the sides of his face. But unlike me, he was shrapnel free, though his left arm was twisted in an awkward angle._

"_We're going to have to get some cover. You up for a little walk to the infirmary?" asked Lance, his gaze focused on the shrapnel imbedded in my leg._

"_Yeah, why wouldn't I?" I rasped, cracking a weak smile. I pushed myself off the ground, steadying myself with the wall._

_I hobbled over to my rifle case, picking it up, wincing with every step. The dull throbbing in my leg grew, intensifying with pain. I wanted to rip that metal shard straight out of my leg, but I fought the feeling, knowing it would only increase my blood loss and put me through even more pain._

"_Use my shoulder, and don't say you don't need my help. I know what having broken ribs feels like, and you have a very large shrapnel piece in you," said Lance, who had made his way next to me._

"_What about your arm? That doesn't look too good, and I don't want to mess it up anymore." I wasn't going to make things worse for him. I wasn't some selfish bastard. I hope._

"_Use the other one then," he said, his voice leaving no argument to be made._

"_Fine." _

_I awkwardly draped my left arm over his right shoulder, careful not to disturb his other arm as my right hand clutched tightly at my rifle case. We must have made an awful sight to see, but I wasn't worried about that. I was slightly more concerned about getting through in one piece._

_Our boots scattered the pebbles on the ground, the sound treacherously loud. I clutched my midriff and swore. Pieces of glass and metal shrapnel were imbedded into my bulletproof vest, which had taken the brunt of the damage. My hands were now bleeding from when I tried to grab my middle, the cuts stinging. It seemed like my luck just kept getting better and better._

_I could hear the gunfire and explosions in the distance as we continued to walk along the path. They pounded in the background, and after what felt like an eternity we arrived at the infirmary. _

_Medics were rushing to and fro, carrying stretchers of injured soldiers and the occasional dead. I felt like throwing up._

_Not because of the blood or the dead, no, it wasn't that. I killed people for a living, I was used to death. But I recognized them all, the ones who lay groaning and the ones who didn't, death having claimed them._

_Private Jones, an optimistic young boy with a skill at the guitar and a girlfriend waiting for him. And he was just a boy, though he would probably protest at being called one. But no more. _

_A bullet to the head made sure of that._

_Specialist Astin, who had the best poker face in the universe and always beat everyone at any card games. The one who always boasted about her first car, which she built from the ground up. But no more. _

_Courtesy of a slug straight in the chest._

_I looked away, feeling sick, and allowed myself to be led into a room, medics bustling around._

I forced myself to snap out of the memory and instead look at the expectant agent in front of me. I brought my hand up to my right cheek, lightly tracing the scar left by the laceration. It was slowly fading, but it was still visible, and served as a reminder.

I bit my bottom lip. Should I? It was tempting, but I wasn't sure. Was I ready to throw myself back into the world I left a year ago? Could I?

"Take all the time you need," said Agent Coulson, perhaps sensing my apprehension.

"I'll do it. I'll join." The words tumbled out of my mouth, and he looked up at me.

"Glad to hear that. There'll be someone to pick you up on Saturday, but in the meantime, you might want to read this," he told me, sliding a book to me as he got up, buttoning up his suit and turning to leave.

"Oh, and Miss Fullerson? Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Agent Coulson," I said, a smile tugging at my lips.

**A/N: Sorry if Coulson is a bit weird, I'm not sure how to write him. Review? It makes me insanely happy whenever I get a notification for a follow, favourite, or review. (Though that hasn't happened a lot.)**


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